


India

by hung_drawn_and_quartered



Category: Stoker (2013)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hung_drawn_and_quartered/pseuds/hung_drawn_and_quartered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Little boys pull the pinktails of little girls they like, that's how you get their attention." At least that's what his father told him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	India

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on fanfiction.net, but I wanted to upload my work from there onto AO3 because I'm on here more often. But I will be updating on both sites.

India, quiet like a mouse but cunning like the snake in his mother bible that seduces humanity with temptation. She's an enigma, cards folded closely at her breast.

Everyone knows that there's something wrong with India. She different and not in the way that school and parents try to convince you is a good difference. India rarely speaks to anyone unless it would allow her personal gain. She observes life as the predator she is. Cold and calculating; her fingers itching for the trigger of her hunting rifle. For the adrenaline born of a good hunt. India has only felt something a kin to love only three times in the eighteen years of he life; for her father, her housekeeper and for the briefest of moments for her prey as she finds and understands their weakness and punctures the life out of them with a bullet or the blade of her knife.

That was how India knew love.

India was like a bug trap, the electrical kind that hung on your front porch in the summer, the one that hummed and glowed aneerie blue. Beautiful and entrancing to all those pests buzzing around, you couldn't help but be intrigued. But she had a sharp sting that sent you spiralling away. The bugs may have been drawn to her, but people where wary around India. Her glow was to artificial and sickly.

Chris Pitts hates India Stoker.  
He hates her. He hates a milk pale skin and pink lips. He hates the smell of her shampoo when she walks past him in the hallway. He hates the way her eyes slip straight past him when he isn't spouting crude bullshit to get a rise out of her. Slipping past him like he doesn't matter, doesn't exist.  
He hates her because she's the one he pictures with his hand jerking himself off in the shower remembering the smell of her shampoo, her lips he imagines plump and broken from heavy kisses, her skin flushed hot and sweat slick.  
Chris Pitts hates India Stoker; because he wanted her and she would've laughed at him if he told.


End file.
